


Wilbur is a Tree

by Orcinus_the_Orca



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dream Smp, Gen, He should also go to prison–, I wrote this before the end of the war with Schlatt, This is emotional believe or not, This started out as a crackfic and somehow evolved???, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:16:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27638755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orcinus_the_Orca/pseuds/Orcinus_the_Orca
Summary: Wilbur is a tree. He has one job to do. And he wants one thing in return.____________This started out as a crackfic for the first paragraph and then I decided to make it hurt. So *waves hand* yeah.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	Wilbur is a Tree

**Author's Note:**

> This was...an idea that came to mind while I was having writer's block. I jokingly asked my friends "Hey, what if Wilbur was a tree?" and it went from there. I actually had a lot of fun with this and I do like how I wrote it. So I hope you all enjoy, too!! Feel free to lemme know your thoughts in the comments!! ^_^
> 
> Disclaimer: This was written before the Schlatt...you know. So yeah, enjoy!

Wilbur was a tree. He was a very nice tree; a tall, sturdy spruce that had stood against all odds. But it seemed no one was willing to see the beauty that was he. Days went by and people would mock him, degrading him despite what he sacrificed. Even when they jeered or ruined him, when they picked him apart piece by piece, he never bowed. He kept smiling, pretending everything was okay. He made a home for people, he gave them food, but they never appreciated him.

The days go by and now there's a new tree in the woods. Wilbur didn't think much about them, he had other things to worry about. But as time moved on, Wilbur noticed how the people were focused more on this new tree than himself. Scarily so. They didn't go to him for safety, they didn't come to him for food, anymore. Even the fox that had made its home under his roots had gone to live with the new tree. He wondered, had they forgotten he was there?

Despite this change, the saplings that rested under his branches remained. There were only a few, but they were cute little things that beamed up at him and asked "What are we doing today, Wil?" Wilbur cherished them. They knew he was there, loved that he gave them a place to hide. There were bees that came to rest on his branches, building their homes. One of the little insects was too weak to fly, so it stayed by Wilbur's side. Occasionally, it would fly down to one of the saplings where they would play. Wilbur loved them; they saw him. 

But the others didn't care. They never cared for his feelings, for his sanity. The new tree was growing bigger and it said it wanted more. So the others followed blindly and gave it more. The bees were the first to go, plucked from his branches as petals on a stem. Then it was the saplings, uprooted replaced by the bigger tree. Wilbur fought for his people, he did, but only one could he save. Wilbur cried, his branches bowed over his little sapling friend. He didn't want this to end. He had suffered too much to lose it all.

Months went by, the big tree's power grew. Wilbur didn't like it. He had been there for years, he had fought for this land and provided for it. For them. But now they turned their backs. Now they wanted the new. Wilbur had grown sick of it. He took the sapling to his side, held them close, and whispered to it in his most soothing voice.

“Let’s be the bad guys.”

Nights later, the forest life was awakened by horrid screams coming from the yard. Everyone came running, forced to listen to animals ensnared behind wooden bars. Made to watch bees fall to the ground with their wings singed and the senses clouded. They were compelled to watch the great tree scream as its bark was stripped away, its leaves reduced to ash. Unable to tear their eyes away while the tree suffered a death far too slow. No one could move; no one knew what to do.

And only a little ways away, far enough not to be caught by the hungry fire, Wilbur watched with an air of finality. No one would ever know, would ever suspect the tree that didn’t exist. The one they had never appreciated or stood beside all those times before. No one cared.

No one, except the little sapling that had been there to watch it all.


End file.
